The Drink of Choice

I met my first endymionist by chance. It was one of those Friday nights, noisy neighbours and high humidity made sleep elusive. I got up and went cycling in the quiet of the night.

My route wandered aimlessly, like a seven year old on their way home after school. I was in the industrial area when I stumbled on the couple. I wouldn't have judged it a particularly romatic location for a tryst. I have my share of voyueristic tendencies so I stopped to watch. They were between the dumpster and the end of a row of industrial condominiums only a bit in the shade of the tungsten sun.

They were doing it doggy style. The only unique thing was the violence of his thrusting. Even in porno films they seldom approach the task with such enthusiasm. Her contribution was the occasional groan. They were either oblivious to my prescence or didn't give a shit.

When he finally finished he stood. His ass was constructed from steel cables. He tossed a condom into the dumpster, pulled up his pants, turned to face me and said, "she's all yours." Then he walked around the dumpster, down the lawn and hopped into a small convertible parked there. In seconds, leaving only the throaty roar of his exhaust hanging in the air and a naked woman on the ground, he was gone.

There was something of an ethical dilemma involved. My impulse was simple. She was naked, legs spread, kneeling, ass up, nearly comatose. My cock knew what it wanted to do. But I was raised better than that. If not, medical school would have finished me off, I get the whole idea of informed consent.

I opted to do nothing but fantasize as I sat there waiting for her to wake up. It took nearly five hours, the sun had shut off the overhead lights by then. I can be patient when the result is worth waiting for. It was when the first shift workers started to arrive in the morning gloom that I gave her a little assist, shaking her naked shoulder. It was moist and cool.

"Who the fuck are you?" She slurred her words and tried in vain to cover her body. Then she asked, "so are you going to fuck me or not?" After which she rolled over and vomitted, projectile, stomach emptying, vomitting. I've never wanted any woman more. I gave her my sweatshirt to wear and took her to a nearby diner where I know the staff aren't very judgemental.

That's how I met Sally, my first endymionist. Sober, though it was a few days before I saw Sally in that state, she was my guide to the culture of drunken sex. I don't mean alcohol as a social lubricator and a reducer of inhibitions. Nope this is all about drinking until your helpless and then putting yourself in harm's way. Offering yourself up on the altar of rape and sodomy annointed in vino veritas.

Endymion was a beautiful shepherd boy. One spring night Selene (the moon) fell hopelessly in love with him. He resisted her every overture until she doomed him to a perpetual sleep (and yes wine featured prominently in just how she accomplished this). Every night she'd fuck his brains out.

I thought it wildly ironic that a phenomena in which women drink to excess and pass out where they are likely to be found by libidinous men was named after the first boy toy. Sally, however, swung both ways, as did most of her friends. They took turns, some nights they were victims, some nights they were predators, ferocious Cougars.

"It's easy to find a young man whose drunk enough to let me do whatever I like. At least drunk enough to go somewhere with me, somewhere private, where I can force feed him booze until he passes out. I have all these dark fantasies," Sally told me. "Sometimes my friends and I we pick a guy and gang bang him. We like him to sober up a little before we break out the strap-ons. Like I said, I have these dark fantasies."

Here ability to act out is just as dependent on alcohol as her ability to give in to her rape desire. The difference is what she drinks. In order to pass out, to surrender, her drink of choice is Vodka. Same for most of her friends. When they are on the prowl they stick to white wine. I conducted one study, once a scientist always a scientist, measuring their alcohol consumption, regardless of source, on occasions with different outcomes. Much to my surprise they drank nearly as much total alcohol whether they were intent on mayhem or oblivion. They just had very different reactions to it. Very curious. More later.

For now I was just wondering, are you an endymionist? Are there any in your neighbourhood? Email me with your answers.